After our experience of running into people who are practically our neighbors at a college visit halfway across the United States, I started thinking about how these chance encounters play out. Sometimes I never see the people again, sometimes I develop lifelong friendships, and sometimes the situation is, for the moment, just really, really awkward.
When I first attended Michigan State University I lived in a residence hall where I made great friends; particularly my three roommates. When we left the residence hall we moved into an apartment together and had a nice little bond, although I eventually switched from being their roommate to Steve's.
One of the roommates was getting married shortly after I did, so the rest of us threw a bridal shower for her at my married housing apartment. Unbeknown to me, a stripper was hired to come and 'perform' at our little soiree. That, in and of itself, is a little weird and uncomfortable. I wasn't used to having a naked man dancing in my apartment (besides, Steve, I mean) and hiring a stripper seemed a little tacky. Which, no doubt, is why I wasn't told about it.
We heard a knock at the door and when I answered, there he stood. He was tall and attractive and for a moment I wasn't sure why a man in a shiny orange jogging suit was at my door. In response to my quizzical expression he announced that he was the stripper. Warning buzzers started going off in my head. Strange man! Bad fashion!
Stripper?
There was a lot of squealing and giggling going on around me although I was, for once in my life, speechless. Someone invited him in and instantly, the squealing stopped and the tension in the room was palpable. Thank God it wasn't just me who was uncomfortable. Maybe he wouldn't strip after all.
Two other women stared, wide-eyed, at the presently fully-clothed man standing in the middle of the living room. He stared back equally as wide-eyed.
Because it was so obvious that something very uncomfortable was going on (something besides having a stripper in my living room), someone must have asked what was wrong. It turned out that stripper man and the two staring women had all been childhood friends. They had grown up and played together in the same neighborhood. He had been one of their brother's best friends. And now here he was, about to bare all, literally, in front of them.
It seemed that once we knew of their association we could have let the guy off the hook with just a cordial handshake but apparently everyone else in the room felt the party must go on. I wasn't sure how they could do this! I didn't want to see the guy naked and I hadn't even grown up with him! What was wrong with these people?? He was going to take his clothes off in front of his childhood friends? I'm pretty sure my anxiety was off the charts just about then.
Apparently a job is a job and the next thing I knew his portable boom box was blaring and he was strutting around in my 10' x 10' living room, wriggling and thrusting out of his horrible orange jogging suit and down to his skivvies. Whew, okay. At least he was still wearing those.
And then off came the skivvies.
Oh. My. Gosh.
I didn't know which was worse, the shiny orange jogging suit, or him not wearing the shiny orange jogging suit.
I don't remember how long the whole stripping performance lasted. Probably not long since he was wearing only three pieces of clothing. I guess at some point he had to take off his shoes and socks but I don't recall him doing so in a slithery, seductive fashion. All I remember is that once his clothes were off he sat on my couch to catch up on old times with his former friends. Just sat there.
Buck naked.
I remember thinking, "Hey, get your naked ass off my furniture!! I don't know where it has been! And cover that thing uuuuupppppp!!!!" I was miserable. Nobody else seemed to care. Apparently, once they saw him naked there wasn't anything else to do but reminisce about the old days. Because, sure, isn't that how everyone would respond?
How long this went on, I don't remember. But I recall being glad when he left. I couldn't shake the awkwardness of the women knowing him. Surely there was a pool of strippers who could have shown up at my apartment that night. Why did it end up being that one? And why, after the initial shock wore off, weren't these women more uncomfortable with it?!
Except for my original three roommates, who have remained lifelong friends, I don't think I ever saw the people involved in that awkward evening again. I don't know if stripper man ever got a more socially acceptable job or if he kept getting naked for his neighbors.
I do hope he retired the shiny orange jogging suit, though.
No comments:
Post a Comment